


And you may ask yourself, "How do I work this?"

by Heavy Henry (HeavyHenry)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavyHenry/pseuds/Heavy%20Henry
Summary: A silly, fluffy little workplace AU about mistaken identity.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	And you may ask yourself, "How do I work this?"

“Doing okay there, buddy?” Phichit asked on their way past Yuuri’s desk. 

“Mmf,” Yuuri mumbled into the top of his desk. It wasn’t worth the effort to lift his head. Maybe if he just didn’t look up, he wouldn’t have to look at his friend, wouldn’t have to see his monitor, and wouldn’t have to watch all of his missed deadlines flying past.

“Awwww. Is someone having a case of the Mondays?”

“So help me, Phichit -” was what he tried to say, but since his mouth was still smushed against the weird plastic veneer of his desk, the message got a little lost.

Phichit just patted him on the back and continued their trek to the lounge, source of blessed caffeine.

Yuuri could allow himself fifteen more seconds of head-desking before he absolutely had to get moving. See mom? He was making great use of his time management skills.

He looked up when he heard the jingle of a collar. Sara was here, a box of donuts balanced delicately on her right hand as she held onto Tosca’s leash with her left. The long-haired dachshund was pulling at the leash, eager to get into the warm office and out of the chilly December weather, no doubt. She must have been groomed recently, because she looked extra silky, with little red and green bows in her ears.

When Yuuri had been hired, one of the first questions he’d been asked by his new co-workers was, “do you have a dog?”

“No,” he had replied, a little bit sad. “My apartment doesn’t allow them.” He meant to move, he really did. He’d been thinking about it for years, but somehow here he was, still in the same crappy, no-pet policy having complex that he’d landed in when he’d first moved to the city.

They had all agreed that this was a shame, but had made sure that he was well aware that _if_ he ever moved and _if_ he ever got a dog then he would be more than welcome to bring said hypothetical dog to work with him.

In the meantime, Yuuri got his daily dose of delightful dogginess from the companions that slept under his co-workers’ desks, or in the sunny spots by the large windows that fronted the building. There was Moose, the director’s aging bulldog, Tosca the dachshund, an energetic terrier mix named Seven, and a Pomeranian who had once gotten so excited that she’d peed on Yuuri’s shoes. He loved her anyway. There were dog toys in the reception area and treats in the break room. Yuuri loved it, even if it was hard not to get a little jealous.

By lunch, he still hadn’t made any progress. He watched everyone else gather their coats and bags, feeling a little woebegone.

“Yuuuuri, are you sure you won’t join us?” Phichit called.

“Sorry, guys, I’m swamped.” There was no way Yuuri was going to risk missing the application deadline for this grant.

“Can we at least bring you something? They have the good tater tots there.”

Betrayed by a gurgle from his midsection, Yuuri agreed. Sara waved off his cash with a laugh and the admonishment not to work too hard.

Hah.

Alone, except for a selection of doggos, Yuuri settled in for at least an hour of uninterrupted work.

That had been the plan, anyway. Yuuri turned down his music when he heard the front door open. Was it the water cooler guy?

No, that would have made too much sense. Instead it was a tall, slim guy, the kind of guy that one might describe as ‘magazine quality’ if they too had spent the 90s listening to their sister’s Ani DiFranco CDs. He ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair, presumably it had been mussed by the wind, not that Yuuri could tell. Yuuri caught the glint of bright blue eyes as they focused on him.

“Hello! The website said you take walk-ins, but no one answered when I called,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m in a terrible rush -”

“Oh, um, of course,” Yuuri found himself standing. Driven by some force beyond himself he stepped over and extended a hand. Instead of a handshake, a leash was passed to him. Yuuri managed to tear his eyes away from the stranger and look down. A brown standard poodle was panting happily at him. “Oh,” he breathed, “hello there.”

“Isn’t she the best girl! This is my Makkachin, and here’s her food,” a lunch box was thrust into his other hand, “and I’ll be back for her at 5:00, is that all right?”

“Um, that’s fine, but -”

“Of course, do you need me to sign anything?”

“Why would I -”

“Oh, that’s right, I’m already in the system, silly me!” The man knelt down to ruffle his dog’s ears. Yuuri found his gaze inexplicably drawn to the tiny glimpse of scalp that he could see peeking through the fine silver hair. “Be a good girl and have fun with your new friends!” Makkachin gave a soft ‘boof’ as he stood. “Thank you so much!”

The office of the small non-profit felt extra quiet as the door swung closed behind him. Yuuri looked down at Makkachin. “Um, hi,” he said. She laid down on his feet.

Makkachin stayed there the rest of the afternoon. It seemed like it should have been a distraction to have had a strange dog forced upon him, but Makkachin turned out to be an excellent assistant, and Yuuri finished writing his grant and got it submitted with time to spare, even with a break to explain exactly how Yuuri had acquired a poodle while everyone else had gone to lunch.

At 5:00, as promised, the man returned for his dog. “How was she?” He asked as Makkachin enthusiastically licked at his face.

“She was perfect,” Yuuri replied, honestly.

“Of course she was! What do I owe you?”

Yuuri had no idea. What were the rates for running into a random office and leaving your dog? “Um, twenty?”

Makkachin’s owner raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Yuuri had no idea if that meant that he had overcharged or undercharged. Regardless, he found himself accepting a crisp twenty dollar bill from a monogrammed gold money clip, giving Makkachin a farewell scritch and agreeing that, sure, he’d be happy to see her again tomorrow.

“Um, have a great night,” Yuuri said, by now completely out of ideas.

“Ugh,” Yuuri’s new friend exclaimed, slapping his forehead dramatically. Yuuri couldn’t even say that he had truly met the man, but he could already tell that the qualifier ‘dramatically’ accompanied many of his actions. “Where are my manners? I’m Victor,” he offered his hand.

“Oh, um, Yuuri.” Yuuri wiped his palms on his pants before accepting the handshake. “Nice to, uh, meet you.” Makkachin grumbled, “and Makkachin, too, of course!”

“A pleasure. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Phichit barely waited for the door to close before leaning over the cubicle wall to smirk. “I notice that you didn’t mention that Makkachin’s daddy is a Daddy.”

“Ugh, Phichit, could you not?”

“Sorry, sorry. The guy is hot, though, right? I mean, he’s all symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing, and some people are into that. And well dressed, and has an amazing dog, right, right?”

“Yes, I guess some people are into that,” Yuuri replied, begrudgingly.

“Wait, say that again; I need to record this so I can use it in my Powerpoint.”

“What Powerpoint?”

“My Best Friend speech. The one I’m going to give at your wedding!”

  
  
  


Yuuri would have written it all off as some sort of weird stress-induced fever dream if Victor hadn’t shown up at the office, first thing the next morning.

“So sorry about yesterday, I was in such a rush!” Victor commented, as Yuuri greeted Makkachin.

“No problem!” Yuuri squawked. “Um, busy day?”

Victor didn’t so much roll his eyes as cast them heavenward (dramatically). Yuuri supposed that was enough of an answer.

“O-okay, I guess we’ll see you later, then.”

“Bye-bye Makka! Be nice to Yuuri!”

  
  
  


“So, when are you going to tell him?” Sara asked as she poured more pumpkin spice creamer into her mug.

“Tell who what?” Yuuri asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Have you at least figured out why he thinks we’re a kennel?”

“You mean other than that?” Yuuri gestured to the small lobby area where Makkachin and Moose were playing tug.

“Fair enough,” Sara said. “You haven’t worked here that long, but when I started, they still had the paw print wallpaper.” She sipped her coffee and added more creamer. “The office used to be a doggie daycare. It’s been at least eight years, but I checked, and they never took down their Facebook.”

“That actually explains a lot.”

“So, you’re going to tell him, right?”

“It’s weird if I don’t, isn’t it?”

“Super weird,” Sara confirmed.

Yuuri looked over at Makkachin and felt his stomach drop.

That afternoon, Phichit wrangled them all into a line in front of the windows. The dogs were lined up in front of them, Makkachin sitting tall in the middle, wearing a Santa hat.

“Say...Chita Rivera!” Phichit called as the timer counted down its beeps. Yuuri tried not to blink.

Phichit jogged back over to check the camera. “We have to do another one. Ciao-ciao blinked!”

Yuuri groaned even though in his secret heart he thought that the annual holiday card for their donors was a nice tradition. “Chita Rivera!” they all chorused as the camera flashed.

Yuuri had always known that one of Phichit’s pictures would be his undoing. He just didn’t expect it to be a christmas card.

  
  
  


A week later, Victor was late picking up Makkachin. Everyone else had gone home while Yuuri lingered, scratching Makka’s ears while playing Minesweeper. He was trying very hard not to worry, but when the door opened, he jumped to his feet a little too fast. “Sorry girl,” he murmured.

Victor was standing in their lobby, looking around like he had never seen the place before. Yuuri watched him take in the cubicles, the desks, the small break area outfitted for human, not doggy, needs. “This...this isn’t a doggy day care, is it?”

“No, Pawsitive Vibes closed a while ago. I’m so sorry…” Yuuri didn’t know what he could possibly say to make the situation less weird. “I didn’t mean to -”

“But why are there always so many dogs here?” Yuuri couldn’t tell if Victor was angry, or just really confused.

“Oh, um, our boss just really likes dogs, and everyone else has one, and I just got so lonely…” Yuuri knew he was babbling when Makkachin licked his fingers.

“And this - is this my dog?” Victor took a familiar glossy card out of his coat pocket.

Yuuri’s breath left his body. “Oh my god, you’re a donor. I’m _so_ sorry. I’ll give you your money back, I didn’t really want it anyway, I just didn’t know what to do, and Makkachin is so sweet.”

“Oh my, you’re kind of a disaster, aren’t you?” Victor asked.

Yuuri flinched, until he registered the laughter in Victor’s voice. He dared a glance up. “Yeah, probably,” he said, letting himself breath again.

“It’s okay,” Victor said, stepping a little bit closer. “I mean, it’s incredibly weird that you didn’t say something sooner, but you’re not the person who just waltzed into a business and announced that you would be leaving your dog there.”

Yuuri hadn’t thought of it that way. “So, you’re not going to have me arrested for stealing your dog?”

“No, of course not!” Victor looked scandalized. “It is getting late, though, and I should probably let you go home.”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s hands tightened a little bit in Makkachin’s fur. “Goodbye then, girl.” He bent down and let her lick his face. Maybe it was embarrassing, but it was probably his last chance.

“There is one more thing.”

“Oh. Right, your money, sorry, let me get it…” He rummaged beneath his keyboard, glad that he hadn’t given into temptation and used any of it to buy snacks from the vending machine.

When he turned back to Victor, he was surprised to see a secret sort of smile curling his lips. “I was actually going to ask if the Greek place down the street is any good. I figured that since you work here?”

“Um yeah, it’s fine.” Later, Yuuri would tell Phichit that he must have had some sort of out-of-body experience then because what he said next was, “the best place in the area is that Irish pub. We call it Kenny’s House of Tots because they have really good um, tater tots.” He stood up straight and looked Victor straight in the ice-blue eyes. “They also have a patio. With heaters. Makkachin could come, and - and - I could treat?” He held up the money and swallowed. “I could treat you and Makkachin to dinner.”

Victor’s expression changed in slow motion, the small stunned smile spreading into something big and goofy and glowing.

Victor kept the Christmas card. It stayed stuck to his fridge for a long time. By the next Christmas, Yuuri had moved in and the three of them sent out their own family Christmas cards. The original card lived safely in a frame from then on, except for a brief outing when Phichit took it home to scan it for his Best Friend Powerpoint.

**Author's Note:**

> Why, yes, I did steal this premise from [this story](https://www.reddit.com/r/IDontWorkHereLady/comments/fnhqhe/this_isnt_a_dog_daycare_at_all/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) on r/idon’tworkherelady


End file.
